"They are to arrive at five, and I'm scared to death for fear that the walk to the Episcopal church is six feet short of half a mile! I wish I had a motor to run around and look at places. Don't you think, as an investment, I could have a motor?" "I do not!" he said. "Maitland made that alarming suggestion, and I told him not to put such ideas into your head." "He's on the track of three Ohio girls who want five rooms and a bath, for light housekeeping, furnished. He's going to haul me round in his go-cart to look at some flats. Trouble is, I can't charge my full commission--they're poor. Students at the College of Elocution. Why do girls always want to elocute?" "Why do they want to run real-estate offices? It's the same thing. Strikes me Howard hauls you round in his go-cart a good deal." She shrieked with laughter. "Nothing doing! Nothing doing! I see your little hopeful thought. You've got me on your shoulders, like the aged Anchises, and you hoped that Howard might come to the rescue. Mr. Weston, I suppose your aunts, or cousins, or whatever they are, think I'm a freak?" "Well, you are," he said; "I'll tell you what they think: they think (not having seen you) that you are a 'sweet girl who is doing something very kind for two old ladies.'" "A 'sweet girl'! Me, a 'sweet girl'?" "Don't worry. You're not." "I suppose they think I am doing it to please you? Very likely they think I'm trying to catch you," she said, chuckling. He looked at her drolly: "Well, you've caught me. You are a perfect nuisance, Fred, but you do serve to kill time." She slipped down from the table, her high-heeled, low-cut shoes clicking sharply on the floor, and, going over to the window, peered down into the cañon of the street. Zip scrabbled up, leaped the length of his leash, jumped, pounced, then put his nose on the floor between his paws and wagged his hindquarters. "No, sir!" she told him, "not yet!" And he crouched down again, patiently curling a furtive tongue over the toe of her shoe. "Howard was to come round for me in his car at four," she said. "Zip! Stop licking my shine off! I hate unpunctual people." Coming back to her caller, she fumbled in the pocket of her coat for her cigarette-case. "Have one?" He helped himself and approved the quality. "I offered Mr. Tait one," she said, "and his hair began to curl!" "My hair is perfectly straight." "That's the beauty of you. Yet Tête-à-tête couldn't have given a reason for his horror, to save his life." "I could." She was plainly disappointed in him. "I thought better of you than that! There's no 'right' or 'wrong' about it." "No, of course there isn't," he agreed; and she applauded him. "But there is a very excellent reason, all the same, why a girl shouldn't smoke." "What?" she demanded. "Makes her less agreeable to kiss."